Truffle Learns to Sit

A few days ago I discovered a trove of dog training videos on YouTube, and my life has been enriched, and Truffle’s life transformed, by the abundance of available advice. There is the massive British guy with a chest-long beard who speaks to enormous mastiffs in an endearing falsetto. There is the zaftig woman who seems to be connected with the dogs she’s training by a magical, invisible filament. And there is the grandfather of video trainers, César Millán, now with a head of pure-white hair. Despite years of taking dogs to obedience and agility classes and reading every training book I could get my hands on, I learn something with every click.

From the British giant I learned to put a portion of Truffle’s kibble in a treat pouch and dispense it throughout the day as we engage in impromptu trainings. “Nothing interests your dog the way food does,” he insists, “and he should regard you as the source of all good things.” Having trained my prior dogs in the expectation that they would do the right thing for moral reasons, I am amazed and gratified at how quickly food does the job. From the zaftig lady I learned to offer treats by holding them against my leg (given Truffle’s size it’s actually my ankle) to counteract any temptation on his part to play “keep away.” But all these treats were making me uneasy. What if I needed Truffle to sit and stay when I was in my pajamas and had no food at hand? Sure enough, there is a video on how to give your dog commands so that eventually he will perform even in the absence of treats.

Thanks to all this, Truffle and I have embarked on a new era in our relationship. When he arrived back in January, he was so timid and apprehensive that I hesitated to complicate his life by training. I focused instead on taking him for walks, house training him (more on that later), and introducing him to select gentle souls who would not terrify him. But after seeing the first video, I decided it was time to teach him to sit.

I put some kibble in my pocket and got down on the floor (you can’t stand up when working with a six pound dog). “Sit!” I said, and held a treat above his head. This causes most dogs to automatically sit, but Truffle backed up instead. Next I tried “molding” him into a sit with my hand, but he resisted. Excited by the proximity of the treat, he started spinning so fast that he became a blur. This isn’t going well, I thought. “Sit!” I repeated, and by pure chance his bottom grazed the floor and I thrust the treat into his mouth.

Reader, that did it! He is now, for the most part, a champion sitter.

At first I only trained in the bedroom, by the southeast corner of the bed, with the door closed so the cat Telemann couldn’t pounce on the treats. Then we progressed to the kitchen, the living room, and the outdoors. Now I can even give the command standing up. Next we started working on stays, again with me on the floor, door closed, and he can hold it for several seconds before starting to spin. I practice recalls by throwing a piece of kibble a few feet away, calling him back to me, and giving him another treat.

Why am I doing this? While it is crucial for, say, a German Shepherd to hold his stay when guests come to the door, with a six-pound dog sits, stays, and downs are pretty irrelevant. You can simply pick him up and put him where you want him. I am doing it for the look on Truffle’s face, the mixture of focus, joy, and intelligence that says “I got it!” and “again, please!”

Training a dog is a lot like teaching someone a foreign language, something I did for years, although no college sophomore ever reacted to my explanations of the pluperfect subjunctive with the kind of fervor that Truffle shows when I offer him a new challenge. As our first summer together settles in, Truffle and I will continue our lessons, he for the treats, and I for the peculiar pleasure of looking into a fellow creature’s eyes, and being understood.